


The One We Wrote Together

by alexenglish



Series: Tumblr Fic [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Animal Transformation, Gen, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:21:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3426011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenglish/pseuds/alexenglish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Where did the piranha rumor come from?” Allison asks, dropping her books on the table between them with a loud thud. Someone from the table next to them “shh”s her, but she just smiles at them in a very pretty way. The kid stares at her, flustered, before returning to his own parchment with a blush staining his cheeks. Cowed into submission by an Argent dimple, what an amateur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One We Wrote Together

**Author's Note:**

> Stallison friendship +"Doesn’t it bother you that everyone in the school thinks you’re a pirahna?"

“Where did the piranha rumor come from?” Allison asks, dropping her books on the table between them with a loud thud. Someone from the table next to them “shh”s her, but she just smiles at them in a very pretty way. The kid stares at her, flustered, before returning to his own parchment with a blush staining his cheeks. Cowed into submission by an Argent dimple, what an amateur. 

“My animagus is a piranha,” Stiles says, without missing a beat. It’s not. His animagus is a form yet to take true form. It’s a slow process with too many false starts, but he’s close. Greenburg stumbled into an early test run of the spell and found Stiles flopping around the bathroom floor desperately. His animagus form isn’t a _fish_ , he did something wrong. That would be the most useless form in the entire world. Even with the deadly teeth and _intense_ craving for flesh.

“Doesn’t it bother you that everyone in the school thinks you’re a piranha?” Allison asks, very serious. Stiles rolls his eyes at her, trying to seem bored. 

“Not as much as it seems to bother you.” 

“Stiles, I’m serious,” she says. 

“Okay,” he says, not knowing what to say. The thing about Allison is that she doesn’t have any obligation to him. While she was dating Scott, she did as social norm dictated and accepted Stiles as a friend. Now that they’re broken up, it makes less sense as to why she’s sitting across from him and discussing the rumor mill. 

“Are you going to do anything about it?” she asks, genuinely concerned. Stiles drops his quill and stares at her, confounded. 

“About the piranha rumor?” He needs clarification. It’s not like he’s an idiot, but he really has no idea where she’s going with this. Allison nods at him, frown still wrinkling the skin between her eyes. “I don’t try to stop gossip, it’s not like there’s any _truth_ to it. It’s not even the worst thing anyone has said about me.”

“What’s the worst thing anyone has said about you?” she asks, eyes wide as if she’s surprised. There’s no way she’s that naive. Allison Argent is not an idiot either. Stiles glares at her, finally getting it. 

“No,” he says, plainly. “Don’t do this. Do not martyr your reputation to save mine.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” she seethes. Stiles doesn’t understand why she’s so upset about how the school sees him. They’re individual entities, it shouldn’t matter to her. It doesn’t matter to anyone _else_. Not that he has many friends, but maybe he _likes_ it like that. He doesn’t need the help of a pureblood Argent to make things better. 

“It looks like it. Don’t bother, please. Anyone who is dumb enough to believe what they hear at this school is too dumb to be my friend.”

“Wow, that didn’t sound pretentious at all,” she says, staring at him in disbelief. Stiles shrugs. What is he supposed to say? It’s true. If someone bases the value of a person that they don’t know on things that _aren’t true_ , why the hell should he bother with them?

“That’s me,” Stiles drawls, hoping the conversation ends quickly. Allison rolls her eyes and grabs her books, robes swishing in irritation as she stands. Stiles didn’t know robes could be so expressive. He meets her eyes one last time, hitching his eyebrows up in what he hopes is obvious nonchalance. 

“You know, you talk big game Stilinski, but I think you’re purposefully isolating yourself. You don’t want to have to put yourself out there.”

Wow, that nail got rammed on the head. Stiles stares at her, feeling off kilter. No one’s ever called him out on it before. Mostly because they don’t bother to notice it. He arranges his face into a smirk and she takes it as a dismissal. 

 

 

“Show me the transformation,” Allison says, coming out of nowhere. Stiles yelps and drops his books, flailing at her helplessly. She manages to dodge his limbs, looking unimpressed. 

“Don’t sneak up on me,” Stiles whines, picking up his books and trying to compose what’s left of his dignity. He strides down the hall, he can’t be late for DADA again. Luckily, or unluckily, Slytherins have class with Gryffindors today, so Allison follows without hesitation. She probably planned this. “And what transformation? There is no transformation.”

“That piranha rumor has an origin story.”

“A fluked polyjuice potion,” he says. 

“What are you doing making a polyjuice potion?” she demands, incredulously. Stiles stops and stares at her, letting the traffic of the hall stream around them. 

“Why do you _care_?”

“Is it really that hard to believe that I want to be your friend?” she asks. It’s a trick question, even if she doesn’t mean it as one. If he says yes, then it opens a door to the discussion of his self-esteem and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready for that kind of thing. If he says no, then it will just invite her to further pursue him as a friend. Not a _bad thing_ necessarily, but if he just accepts it, then he’ll never find out _why_. The ‘why’ is important. 

“Oh my god, it is,” she says. He didn’t consider the third option: staying silent until it’s obvious he’s acquiescing. Stiles scowls at her as she gapes. “You seriously don’t think I should be your friend do you?”

“No,” he denies. They’re going to be so late to DADA, he regrets everything about this conversation. They take off down the hall again. 

“You didn’t qualify that with anything, you’re lying.”

“That’s a really ridiculous way to claim that I’m lying,” he says, as they round the corner to the classroom. He doesn’t bother to point out that she’s right, he has a feeling that she already knows. She grins at him, bright and accomplished. 

“This conversation isn’t over,” she says, as she crosses the room to sit with Isaac. He raises his eyebrows at her as she gets closer, but she doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she looks at Stiles again and sticks her tongue out at him. What the fuck?

 

“You don’t think you deserve my friendship,” Allison says. It’s not a question, even though it probably should be. Polite company would make that into a question. It makes more sense as a question. Allison’s just _assuming_ that his self esteem is so low that he doesn’t think he’s qualified for friendship. It makes him feel indignant, even though that’s what is going on here. 

“Social norms dictate that I don’t,” he says, making himself sound bored. He’s hanging out by the lake, just skirting the edges of the Forbidden Forest, on purpose. He didn’t want her to _find him_. Of course, she did anyway, because she’s Allison Argent. Go figure her tracking abilities are on par with her skills as a beater. Meaning, off the charts. 

“Since when do you care about social norms?” she asks, with a roll of her eyes. That has to be a trait she picked up from Lydia. Stiles doesn’t remember it happening that often when Allison was dating Scott. 

“I don’t,” he says, even though he does. What teenager doesn’t? They’re all conditioned by society to care about what their peers think. “I just think you should. I’m not a piranha, I’m a pirah. That should matter to you.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Allison says. She sounds _angry_ , more angry than she should be. Stiles looks up at her and takes in the clenched jaw, the light in her eyes. Totally pissed. 

“You’re a pureblood, you’re popular. You’re Lydia Martin’s best friend in the whole word. If we were in caste system, you would be at the top and I would be not -- Not at the top, _at all_.”

Allison is staring at him blankly. It’s the same look Derek gets on his face when he thinks Stiles has done something too stupid for words. 

“You’re going to do the same thing to me that they’re doing to you?” Allison asks, voice climbing. “You’re going to sit there and tell me that we can’t be friends because I’m at the top of the totem pole and you’re at the bottom? How does that make sense? You’re so infuriating, what the hell!”

“All the more reason not to pursue my friendship,” Stiles says, feeling small. She has a point and Stiles _hates that_. He hates that he never considered that he might be treating her like everyone treats him, just in reverse. 

“Have you ever taken into consideration that I like you? As a friend? You’re interesting and you’re smart. On any given day, you have more conversation starters than pretty much anyone else I _know_.”

Stiles flails his arms at her and scrubs a hand over his head, trying to shake off the tension. 

“You want to be my friend?” Stiles asks, seriously. Allison flings her arms out at him in frustration. “ _My_ friend. Not for anyone, just to _be friends_. To exist in friendship, with me?”

“Yes,” she says, exhaling a harsh burst of air that’s more frustration than anything. “Do I need to hang a banner? Buy a sky writer? Seriously, yes.”

“Fine,” he says, looking down at his parchment. She startles, like she wasn’t expecting him to agree so readily. Stiles could argue for another half an hour, maybe longer, but there’s no point in it. Derek always says he should be less stubborn. Allison beams at him, all dimples and beauty. 

“Wait, how do you know what a sky writer is?” he asks.

 

“I can’t believe this!” she shouts, hands in his fur. She tickles her fingers down his sides. He chirps with his weird, high pitched voice and kicks at her with his back paws. From this angle, everything looks way too big. Allison is the equivalent of a freaking building. “This doesn’t even make _sense_ , why are you -- You’re -- _Why_?”

Stiles has a feeling she’s making fun of him, so he nips at her fingers with his tiny teeth and growls. Or rumbles. Honestly, it sounds like more of a purr. Whatever, he’s threatening. Fluffy and threatening is totally a thing.

“I can’t believe you did it!” she says, patting his head. Stiles waddles into the bathroom stall so that he can transform back and put some clothes on. When he’s human again, he stretches out his legs and hands, awed at the differences. 

“Red Pandas are totally menacing, right?” he asks. Out of everything, a Red fucking Panda, geez. 

“I was scared the entire time you were chirping at me,” Allison says, grinning at him in that easy way she has. She’s totally lying. Stiles throws a crumpled piece of parchment at her head in retaliation as she laughs at him. “It was terrifying!” 

“At least I’m not a piranha.” 

“At least you’re not a piranha,” she agrees, laughing. 


End file.
